Serla glided over the ocean, the body of her gull warm and steady beneath her. They had left the coastal fog behind. They were out over mer waters now, where few people other than gullriders went. Ahead lay the Spires, their thin, volcanic tips enveloped in a cloud of nesting sea birds. Rhysas led them in a circle around the highest of the crags, evoking memories of their first long flight a year earlier, when Serla was still a raw apprentice.
This time, the maneuver was easy and smooth, her control precise. Screech knew her touch; all it took was a light pressure of her knee against his feathered neck to make him turn, no reins at all. Her bird matched Longbeak's every dip and angle, the two gulls maintaining perfect formation, the large white and grey in the lead, the somewhat smaller, pure white in the rear. As they came out of the circle, Rhysas pulled Longbeak up in a sharp, skilled evasive tactic. Serla, who had expected the test, countered it. Rhysas glanced back, smiling and nodding at her performance. They headed further out to sea.
Serla rubbed the back of Screech's neck, pleased with herself. Her flights with Rhysas were no longer a matter of master teaching apprentice. It was more two gullriders enjoying a flight together as equals. Realistically she knew that, in spite of his advancing years, there were few gullriders that could hold a feather to Rhysas when he decided to challenge their ability, but the great gap was gone. She did not have to constantly ask him what to do, or receive daily lectures. Instead, they simply practiced, and at times such as this, she could pretend that they were comrades. The day before he had actually complimented her.
They headed for the sea lanes. They were, after all, technically on patrol, observing the boats as they sailed through mer waters to the fishing banks. To Serla's delight, one of the first they passed was her family's own trawler. She guided Screech down and passed by them at mast height. Her father, at the tiller, yelled an inaudible greeting. Her sister and brother-in-law waved from the bow. She gave them the sign of good fishing.
She doubted she could be happier than at that moment. Her sister might have been the pretty one, the one who had caught one of the best husbands the village had to offer, but there she was in a boat dealing with smelly fish, while Serla had the skies. Dainty arms and a petite build might be fine for attracting a man, but they weren't meant for the joy of commanding a gull.
It was as she and Rhysas were leaving mer waters, entering the territory where, by treaty, humans owned the fishing rights, that they spotted the merman. He was gesticulating wildly, riding the crest of a swell, showing off the bluish white of his belly to make himself more visible from above.
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